Four
by BerLina
Summary: Based on recent Caskett spoilers for 5x01 — read at your own risk. A collaboration between BerLina and LuminousLu.
1. One

**A/N: **_Hi, guys!_

_This story is proudly presented to you by BerLina and LuminousLu, based on a recent spoiler for the season 5 premiere. **[SPOILER ALERT!]**  
__It's the first time Lina and Lu have collaborated on a fanfiction. This started as a swing story (one writes a bit, the other another and we get it all together) [Lina is shaking her head at Lu's choice of words], ending with each of us writing a chapter and the other editing it._

_I hope you can enjoy the final result; we obviously had a blast bringing it to you!_

_Lina and Lu_

* * *

**One.**

Her hands fidget with the buttons of his shirt; it's hot, it's hot in here and her hands want it off, want it on the floor where it belongs. No piece of clothing belongs on his body, not now; her mouth does. Oh, her mouth, now finding its way across the planes of his neck and down the valley of his throat, exploring, seeking, finding the solace she so fiercely craves.

She's so distracted by his skin under her tongue that she yelps in surprise when he pushes her against the bookshelves; she hadn't even realized they had moved from the living room into his study already. The dark wood gets forced against her back, her coat clinging to her and making her shiver, the dampness from the rainfall soaking deep into her bones. His hands are on her shoulders, pushing and tearing until the piece of leather is bunched up behind her back. Her mouth is unwilling to part with his skin, but his hands follow through, slide beneath the fabric of her shirt, trace the lines of her abdomen.

He's being so slow with her, so cautious, but she's not sure she can wait; her tongue finds itself around a nipple and she suckles on it, making him moan in a way she didn't anticipate. A shiver runs through her body, but she isn't quite sure whether it was caused by his moan or the lingering cold or his hands unbuttoning her shirt.

Oh god, his hands, they are everywhere and they're not enough, and now his mouth, oh, his mouth is tracing her neck and she leans back, allows her head to fall back against the wood, feels the spines of the books through her hair, what seems to be the corner of a picture frame against her cranium. His hands and his mouth are on her breasts and she can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything other than bringing her own hands up and running her fingers through his hair, the adoration seeping from her touch like she never expected it to.

He seems to notice it, too; his head rises from its spot until he's looking at her like she's made of some sort of precious gem, a pile of words and beauty and a sense of something that they can't quite grasp yet, but which seems to be more and more within their reach.

Just one more step, one more touch, one more caress.

"Kate," he whispers and the awe and wonder in his voice spur her into action again. She pushes on his chest until he gives her enough room to move, and then lowers herself, her hands finding his pants and pulling them down, not a split second of hesitation in the way she moves. She looks up at him and his eyes are closed, his hands grasping the shelves and his forehead against the wood.

No. Not quite yet, not now. The first time isn't just about pleasure, it's about something more, something deeper.

"Kate," he calls again. His hands find her arms and he pulls her up, kisses her hard, thoroughly, his tongue tracing her lips, the roof of her mouth, their breaths mingling. This is it, this is the time and when he looks down she has pulled her own pants all the way to her ankles, is toeing them off. When did she lose her boots?

He doesn't really care. All he cares about is the way she's looking at him, how her body is leaning back against the books and suddenly that's his entire life against that shelf — his books and his Kate, all mingling together, all mixing up in a picture that seems close to his idea of heaven.

She lifts one leg and hooks it around his hip, and a second later he is lost inside of her.


	2. Two

**A/N: **_Thank you for all the alerts and favorites and reviews, we really appreciate it! _  
_We will eventually take this story to an M rating... We hope you'll be okay with that. Either way, we'll give you a fair warning and a chapter break, so you can duck and cover ;)  
__Enjoy the next chapter!  
__Lina and Lu_

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**Two.**

He lets her catch her breath while he cleans himself up in the bathroom, finally shedding the shirt that never quite made it off his shoulders. He throws a haphazardly glance in the mirror and is struck by how broken he looks, how shaken. He brushes the pads of his fingers under his eyes and rests his hip against the cold marble counter, takes a deep breath, but finds that it does him no good. Four years he's been waiting for her, and now that she's finally in his arms he can't grasp it, can't understand it.

The need to know what's going on, the writer's craving for explanations and reasons that he's pushed down for the past half hour, is bubbling up inside of him, struggling for a way out.

They need to talk.

He walks back into his study just as she's flinging off her bra without pretense, her wet hair wrung out and thrown over one shoulder, their discarded clothes ordered neatly in a pile on his work desk. Her naked body looks sinful in his dark study, all soft skin and harsh bones outlined by the silver light from outside; the storm died down sometime in the last minutes, when their pounding hearts and rushing blood had been all they were able to hear.

"Kate," he says, and tries to put as much stern determination as he can into this one word. Her dark eyes find his and he's rooted to the spot, frozen stock-still as she advances on him, her endless bare legs taking long, swaying strides that make his insides jump and spin and curl.

"Rick" she husks, all playful and reprimanding and 'I don't want to talk', and damn, he can't resist her when she slides her slim, nimble fingers down his bicep. He swallows thickly, fights through the fog in his mind and prepares to talk, but oh, her tongue is in his mouth before he can formulate any kind of sentence.

He sighs into her, can't help it, not when her toes brush against his foot and dance up his calf as her lips play with his, their warm bodies molding together perfectly. His arms wrap around her back and pull her up against him, his hips canting towards hers even as he wills himself to push her away. She bites on his lower lip, tugs as he moans helplessly into her mouth and his own fingers betray him, tracing firm circles against her back, her shoulders, the sharp edge of her hip.

"Kate," he tries again, panting against her hot, parted mouth as she breaks for air, but she shakes her head, her eyes surprisingly bright and happy and flirting, and not nearly as haunted as his; probably for the first time in all their years together, their situation is reversed.

"I know what I'm doing, Rick" is all she says, her nose bumping his as her nails scratch low on his stomach, his muscles clenching and hips bucking so that he has to close his eyes. And then she's pressed against him, the slim length of her body rubbing in all the right ways against the entire length of him, her wet mouth nibbling on his earlobe as she palms his butt, and he's gone, so far past gone, and it suddenly doesn't matter anymore what changed, what her reasons are, because talking is totally overrated anyway.

"Take me to bed, Castle," she husks in his ear and okay, maybe talking isn't really that overrated, maybe she should say more, tell him exactly what she wants from him, that sexy voice of hers rushing through his veins like a drug, his skin shivering at the way she calls his name.

He scoops down, hooks his hands under her thighs and pulls her up, her body only a light weight in his arms, her legs clutching him tightly, her breasts pressed flat against his chest and oh, that teasing mouth of hers is still at his ear, cheering him on, whispering the dirtiest little things in his ear that almost make him buck his knees and drop her, almost make him lose his balance in the doorway to his bedroom.

A four letter word slips through his lips and she squeezes her legs together, undulates her hips against him and bites his chin, whispering "Yes, yes, that."


	3. Three

**A/N: **_Thanks for the reviews and alerts again, dear readers! Luminous Lu is on vacation... but no worries, you'll get your updates anyway! We hope you'll enjoy reading this, just as much as we enjoyed writing it!  
__Lina and Lu_

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**Three.**

There is no weight on her. She stumbles into consciousness only to realize that the arm that was surrounding her when she fell asleep isn't there anymore; the weight of his bicep isn't pleasantly crushing her torso, there is no heat beside her.

That's curious. She always took him for a snuggler, but he's not there and she doesn't really want to open her eyes. No. After everything, after the two delicious rounds of sex — no, not sex. Love making, no matter how much she hates calling it such — the fact that he's not wrapped around her is not a good sign and she's not sure she's ready to face that reality.

Until she hears it, the pounding of his fingers against his keyboard.

Oh.

He's writing.

She finally manages to open her eyes, squinting against the strip of light that comes from the slightly open door, straight to the bed. He's in his study. He's there, still there, he hasn't gone anywhere.

But he's still not in bed.

There's not much concern in the way she gets out of bed. Her fingers find a worn shirt of his and she pulls it over herself, not bothering with underwear. He's seen all of her, anyway.

He doesn't see her coming out of the bedroom, so she stands at the door, her shoulder against the frame, her eyes on his figure; his legs are bare against the desk and his computer is resting on his lap. A glance backwards, at the clock on his bedside table, tells her it's after three in the morning. He's facing away from her — maybe that's why he hasn't noticed her presence yet — and she takes the time to enjoy the sight, enjoy him. Enjoy the way he's concentrating, the will he's had to write after their night.

"Castle," she calls him before she can really help it, and he turns his chair around immediately.

"Kate." His eyes are on hers, his expression stunned, almost vulnerable. It's like she has shocked him out of a bubble of concentration and she regrets it suddenly, a shiver going through her skin.

"I thought you were asleep."

She shrugs her shoulders, doesn't think about the words before they leave her mouth.  
"I missed you in bed."

Before he knows it, she's by his side, her hip against the desk as she looks down at him. She didn't want to talk, not before, but now she might. She knows there are issues to be solved, points to be clarified, and if there's any chance those are the things keeping him up at night, then they should just get them over with.

His hand comes to rest on the side of her thigh, a gesture so familiar, so comfortable that she feels like she's melting into him. She loses the will to talk almost immediately, but he seems to have sensed it in her, because now he's looking up, his expression calm but deep, his eyes curious.

She finds her voice, finally.

"We need to talk, don't we?"

He nods, his other hand coming to rest on her hip now, and he makes her sit on the desk in front of him. She does it almost prudishly, crossing her legs, and he rests his chin on her knee, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh and looking up at her.

"Is this going to be over tomorrow?"

Whoa. That's blunt. And somehow, it makes her heart shrink. Wasn't she clear enough last night? Was she ever clear? That's her sin, isn't it? Never saying the words out loud, never allowing them past the lump in her throat.

"No." It's all she can whisper, and her hand finds its way to his head, running her fingers through his mahogany hair. "No, it's not."

"I'm glad."

"I am, too." She smiles down at him. "Castle, I can't promise you the world. But I can promise you that I'm exactly where I want to be. And you're only person I want to be with."

He sighs and she smiles again, her hand sliding down to his neck, caressing and reassuring him as she pulls him up. "And the only thing I can do is hope that this is always where we both want to be."

He kisses the corner of her mouth, his lips open, his tongue probing. There's no halfway, no holding back; he's soft and tender and oh so sweet and it drives her insane with want, makes her want to take him. His hand finds its way to her upper thigh and she sighs, her mouth fusing with his, a shiver running through her body as he pulls her down to his lap and she can feel him through the fabric of his boxers.

Her feet find the sides of his chair and she arches against him, pulling him up, taking him with her to lay back on the desk. She needs him close, she needs to know he understands. She needs him to know how much she wants him, loves him, even if the words won't come out yet.

Oh god, if he keeps doing that, they might.

"Castle," she whispers but he doesn't stop, his tongue still making its way down her chest, his shirt wide open, her body gloriously naked before him. "Rick, God. Rick, I just…"

His head shoots up, a look of concern in his eyes, until she pulls him up and kisses him softly.

"I just need to know," she whispers. "I need to know you understand."

He smiles, that little boy smirk she loves so much, and kisses the corner of her mouth. "I know, Kate. We'll take our time."

And that's all she needs to know, so that when she lays back and his mouth meets the inside of her thigh, the only thing in her mind is him.


	4. Four

**A/N:** _Unfortunately, **this is already the last chapter**, folks! If you haven't figured it out, or haven't heard the spoiler yet:** [SPOILER ALERT]** It was suggested in a recent article that Castle and Beckett had sex four times during their first night together. Maybe there will be a scene in the season premiere that alludes to that fact, who knows... _

_Anyway: this is Chapter 4, and as a little gift to everyone who (secretly or not-so-secretly) wished for it, we've upped the rating to an M!  
**This is now an M-rated story! Procede with caution!  
**__Also: Enjoy! _

_This story has been a pleasure for the two of us. I hope it has been a pleasure to all of you dear readers who've blessed us with alerts and reviews :)  
Thank you all very, very much!  
__Lina and Lu_

* * *

**Four.**

It finally feels right.

The way his leg is thrown over her hip, his protective arm around her. She finally feels involved in his warmth, in the cocoon of his body while the sun rises outside and fills up the room with golden streaks of light and bits of dust floating above.

She turns around, her face ending up right on front of his while he sleeps, his mouth parted slightly, his expression finally relaxed. She traces the lines of his face with her index finger, stops at his mouth and kisses it softly. He stirs and she smiles against him, her hand coming up to rest behind his head.

He breathes out deeply, warm air that smells like him cascading down the side of her face, and she moves closer still, brushing her nose against his.

"Hmm" he murmurs, smacking his lips together like a child, completely adorable.

"Hey" she greets him, watches how his eyes blink open, one at a time, a startling bright blue, unfocussed and unseeing. She kisses him before he even fully wakes up, rolling half on top of him, her leg sliding easily between his.

Fitting. They fit together.

Her hand travels south, her fingers tracing the planes of his shoulders, finding a resting stop at the dimples on his lower back. She teases the small depression of skin and he buckles against her, his heavy-lidded eyes closing once more, his readiness pressing against her thigh.

She sighs against his mouth, his tongue so moist, so warm. His hands mirror hers, the journey taking them down, placing them on her buttocks. He pulls her against himself and she bites her lip, a small moan filling the quietness of the room.

"God, Rick." She murmurs into his neck and she's so very grateful that she's not wearing a single garment because when she turns in his arms, it makes it so much easier for things to unfold.

She knows he probably isn't sure whether he's awake already or still dreaming, but his broad palms find their targets without hesitation, kneading her small breasts and scraping down her toned stomach, teasing the inside of her thigh for only a second before they're on her. She's so wet already – or still, maybe – that he doesn't need much dexterous foreplay, and it's a good thing, too, because he's not really able to do much more than swipe over her and plunge into her and sink his teeth into her neck.

She moans loudly, grinding into his palm as he scissors his fingers, her butt pressing back into his groin, her left hand reaching behind her, fumbling blindly for him.

She pumps him once, twice, and he rewards her with a twist of his wrist, a pinch of her nipple, a sloppy line across her shoulder blade.

"God, Kate," he pants, his voice raw and dry like gravel road, deeper than usually and hitting her straight to her core. "What a way to wake up."

She sighs in agreement and brings her free hand down to join his, their fingers moving together for a bit before she slowly eases him away from her.

It doesn't take much effort; all she has to do is angle her hips back and he's sliding into her, a shallow stroke at first, then deep, then slow, then deep.

Oh god, he knows exactly what he's doing to her. He knows exactly what drives her insane.

Her hand finds his neck and pulls him to the side, moves her own head in order to give him a sloppy kiss. His hands are everywhere, his mouth on hers, his tongue tracing her lips and her teeth and the roof of her mouth and oh, goodness, he's good with his hands.

He keeps stroking softly, slowly, causing a buildup of pressure on her lower abdomen. They sigh in unison and suddenly he's rolling them over, lying on his back, her on top. Her feet are on each side of his hips, with his hand on her front and him, oh, so deep inside of her that she could scream.

This is definitely a change in perspective, she thinks as she starts moving up and down.

His other hand rests on her hip, not guiding her, just brushing slowly across her skin, his palms running over her bones, her backside, his fingers tripping up her spine as she increases her tempo.

He hits, oh, that spot inside her every time she sinks down, and, yeah, yeah right there, his pointer and middle finger providing just the right friction on every upward motion, and damn, if this is as good for him as it is for her, she's going to black out in half a minute.

As if he could read her mind, he holds her still all of a sudden, a tight grip on her upper thigh as he presses his fingers almost roughly against her, grinding and letting go, grinding again and flicking, and she flies, flies, clenching, doesn't know if she's screaming but feels hoarse when the trembling slows down.

"Wow."

* * *

"So it wasn't a dream?"

She chuckles from the bathroom as she hears his soft mutter, almost an afterthought as he wakes up. She has to admit that she has the same sensation — of being in a semi-conscious state, of feeling like all of that is just too good to be real, too fantastic to have actually happened.

And then there's the hickey on the underside of her breast, telling her just how real it all was. Deliciously so.

She buttons up his shirt and moves to the bedroom, finding him sitting against the headboard with a dazed smile on his face. His eyes meet hers as she sits in front of him, a shy smile on her face. Everything's different with the daylight, everything is stronger, more real. She's very fond of that notion.

"So, you liked it?" she asks, almost afraid to look. He nods like a schoolboy and she feels a sense of wonder bubbling up her chest. "Yeah, me too."


End file.
